


Never the Right Time

by TheDarkwoodsWitch



Category: Stucky - Fandom
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Battle of Wakanda (Avengers: Infinity War), Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Captain America: The First Avenger, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Endgame, Endgame AU, Endgame fix it, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Marvel - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Pre-Serum, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Skinny Steve, World War II, mcu - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26720869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkwoodsWitch/pseuds/TheDarkwoodsWitch
Summary: When Steve in 1945 flew that bomber straight into the ice, he knew he didn’t have to. He could have swam out from the wreck. He could have jumped out of the plane right before impact. There were a million things he could have done. He knew this. But he didn’t want to live in this world without his best friend, and so he chose not to. A heroic suicide mission. He knew he was going to die. Well, he had hoped so. He didn’t expect to be instantly frozen in the ice, only to be found 70 years later. That wasn’t part of the plan. He wanted to leave this all behind and be done. Not become a “Cap-cicle” as Tony had put it. That wasn’t what he wanted at all.-or-Memories and moments of Steve and Bucky's life, told mostly from Bucky's perspective, as Bucky deals with what might be unreciprocated love.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Never the Right Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second fic and I would absolutely love some constructive criticism on this. I really enjoyed writing this :) Thanks for reading :)

December, 1944

“Fuck Bucky, that hurts!”

“Quit it, you know I gotta”

Bucky was sewing up Steve’s eyebrow. They were in the middle of German occupied France in the dead of winter and Steve had gotten cut up pretty bad in some hand-to-hand combat with a bayonet wielding Hydra agent. They weren’t anywhere near Central, so the field Med Kit and Bucky’s limited training would have to do.

“Where’d you learn to sew like that, Mrs. Barnes?” Dugan teased. The other Commandos howled with laughter around the fire. They had made it back to camp alright but Steve still needed patching up. Just like old times.

“Shut your trap” Bucky murmured as he finished the final stitching. He focused on tying the final knots. Steve just looked up at him as he worked.

“Had to learn how to sew this fool up when we were kids. Always getting himself into trouble for no damn good reason” Bucky kicked Steve in the foot.Bucky remembered a particularly bad fight when they were kids that ended up with Steve having a busted eyebrow, much like today, that needed stitching. He had asked Sarah Rogers to show him how to stitch it. He knew he’d need it again someday. Somehow Bucky knew he’d always be getting Steve outta scrapes, and he figured he’d have to sew Steve back together again someday. May as well learn how. The scar from before was gone. Bucky wondered, had the serum fixed that? He wondered what all else the serum did.

“Thanks Buck” Steve said, sounding a bit deflated, as he ran a hand over the stitches. He winced. He’d be healed up in a couple days, the serum made sure of that. He wasn’t looking forward to the stitches coming out though.

“We had better bed down soon. We got a big day ahead of us.” Gabe Jones said. They all nodded in agreement.

“I’ll take first watch” Bucky volunteered. He needed time to be in silence and clear his head. The Commandos retreated to their tents. They’d have an early morning, another march, another fight against a pocket of Hydra members possibly while they tracked down another base. Christmas would be soon, Bucky thought. Just a few days.

The Commandos had tucked themselves away and Bucky slung his rifle over his shoulder. He wrapped his scarf around his head and flipped up his coat collar. He fucking hated the cold. It hurt. It seeped into tour clothes. Made your toes feel dead. But at your ears and nose. And for years and years, it worried him. Steve was sickly. Well, he was. Once upon a time. And the cold meant sickness. Steve almost always got sick every winter.

The December of 1936, just two measly months after Steve lost his mom, Steve got so sick Bucky thought he was going to be a goner. Every time Steve coughed Bucky was worried it would come back red, just like his mother. Consumption was a horrible thing. He was with Sarah on her death bed. He knew he shouldn’t have been, that he could catch it, but he wasn’t about to leave their apartment and leave them alone. He wanted to be there when she passed.

“James” she managed to rasp when Steve had left the room to get more towels and a fresh bowl of water. Bucky remembered leaning in to hear her better. She was pale. Her hair was matted to her forehead from sweat. Her lips tinged red from the blood she had been coughing up.

“Take care of my Stevie.” She said. She reached out a hand and took ahold of his, squeezing it. She looked sad, like she might cry. Bucky knew she loved Steve more than anything in the world.

“I will, I always will, I promise” he said. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes.

“James, I know you love him” she whispered. Her voice sounded sad, and almost fearful.

“I see it in how you look at him. A mother always knows.” Bucky was flabbergasted at this. Bucky remembered being in total denial of this but he said nothing. It didn’t feel right to protest a dying woman. She squeezed his hand again.

“Just be good to him. Be good _for_ him.” She smiled a sad smile and Steve walked back into the room carrying the bowl of water and towels.

————————

Bucky thought back to that moment, and that winter of 1936, when Steve lay in bed, feverish, sweating, pale, coughing. Bucky stayed by his side for hours at a time. His rear was sore from sitting in the kitchen chair for so long, elbows sore from being propped up in prayer at his bedside. It was cold, like it was now in France. Bucky hated the cold so much. He remembered Steve whimpering in his sleep when Bucky would wipe a cool damp washcloth on his forehead. Bucky never prayed so hard, holding Steve’s hand between his, pressed to his forehead sometimes. Steve had had a fever for days and it wasn’t breaking. His cough was worsening. His breaths more shallow. Bucky remembered watching, just the two of them in their shared apartment now that Sarah was gone, watching as his breaths got slower and slower. Bucky remembered crying. He remembered ugly crying because he didn’t know what to do, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing Steve. Of living without him.

Bucky in his fear and hurt stood up and leaned over Steve and kissed him on the forehead. Steve’s forehead was hot. He pressed his lips to Steve’s forehead again. His tears dropped down onto Steve and Bucky wiped them away.

“I love you, Stevie” he whispered so quietly that he himself barely heard it. Sarah was right. He was head over heels for this boy and it took him until this moment to truly realize it.

Steve after a moment blinked his eyes open and looked at Bucky who was at this point face to face with Steve. Steve managed to smile. Bucky loved that smile. Now and forever he would.

“Bucky....?” he managed to gasp. He smiled again and Bucky sighed a deep, relieved sigh. Bucky sat down on the side of the bed and pulled Steve up into a tight hug. He was alive and right now that’s all that mattered in the whole world to Bucky. Bucky could feel Steve’s ribs, his bony shoulders.

So frail.

“Steve I thought I lost you” Bucky cried and he kept holding Steve, his body shaking as he cried. Steve managed to wrap his thin arms around Bucky.

_Take care of my Stevie......._

————————

The snow crunched softly under Bucky’s boots. He checked his watch. It had been 2 hours since he took watch. He wasn’t quite tired. He wanted to light a cigarette but he didn’t want to give their position away. He kept pacing a perimeter around their camp. He didn’t really need to pace but it helped him feel better. He figured if he was sitting he’d probably doze off. Two hours seemed enough he figured, and it was quite dark, so he turned back towards camp, which honestly wasn’t far anyway.

Unbeknownst to Bucky, a surviving Hydra agent had trailed the Commandos back to their camp, and had climbed up into a tree. He was close to the movement but he wasn’t sure what it was at first. He had special Hydra made goggles that helped him see in the dark. He knew it was a man. As there wouldn’t be any other Hydra soldiers out this far, he knew it could only be one group. He brought the scope of his long barreled rifle up to his eye and made the shot.

One singular bullet ripped through Bucky’s left side and he let out a scream of pain and shock. He collapsed to the ground and for a moment was dazed. _Sniper_ he thought before he forced himself up and behind a tree. He couldn’t tell in the dark but he could feel how much hot blood was gushing out of him.

The scream had awoken Steve and the other Commandos. They all realized something had happened to Bucky as he was first watch, and hadn’t yet returned. Jim worked on making a new fire for visual, and Steve picked up his shield.

“Bucky!?” He called out, his voice shakier than he wished. There was a moan, and with the help of the firelight and his improved vision, Steve ran into the nearby trees. The other commandos spread out to find the attacker.

Steve came up upon a short trail of blood, such a contrast from the snow, and found Bucky, slumped over, back against a tree, his right hand wrapped around him, his left pressing on his side futilely. Steve knelt before him and pushed Bucky back against the tree. Steve pushed Bucky’s chin up to look at his face.

“Talk to me, Buck!” Bucky was breathing shallowly. Steve took off his own scarf and undid Bucky’s jacket, wrapping the scarf tightly around his abdomen.The gray wool scarf began to stain with blood. Bucky moaned and winced from pain as Steve maneuvered him.

“Bucky we gotta get to back to base that’s too much blood for a field kit” Bucky nodded weakly and Steve went to pick him up. He slung him over his shoulder fireman style and hauled ass back to camp.

“What the fuck happened?” Jim yelled, eyes wide, as Steve came up to their camp with Bucky in tow.

“I bet a Hydra followed us out here” Steve said. Just as he finished speaking there was the sound of a volley of bullets and some swearing. Jim and Steve both turned toward the noise and out of the darkness returned the other commandos. Dugan was carrying a pair of black goggles.

“Well we got ‘em. He had these on. We oughta take them back to base. These goggles are weird. You can see in the dark kinda with them. SSR will definitely want these”.

“Bucky’s bleeding bad. It’s not too far from here but it’ll be tough in the darkness. But we can’t afford to wait for dawn” Steve said in a commanding voice. Bucky was heavier than he ever thought he’d be, but Steve had never ever been in a position to carry Bucky before this. Helped him walk? Yes. Carried him? No. Steve could feel the blood seeping through the scarf and onto his shoulder.

“Do we got anything else to wrap this with?” Steve said as he laid Bucky down. They got to work, removing the scarf and getting his shirt and pants undone to expose the wound. Bucky looked pale. They stuffed the wound with all the gauze they could find, and wrapped it back up with the scarf. Steve grabbed Bucky again and this time put him over the other shoulder. Bucky moaned in protest, the pressure made his wound hurt more but it was needed pressure.

“Alright let’s move out”

————————

When they arrived at base, everything was a blur. Steve had carried Bucky the entire several mile trek, as he was the only one who could do it solo, and he wasn’t going to risk slowing down. Steve brought him right to the med tent and didn’t leave his side the whole time, just as Bucky had done for him over and over before. He sat at his head and held it between his hands, sitting forehead to forehead, crying as they worked to get the bullet shrapnel out and get him back together. Steve had never seen Bucky look so sickly and pale. All he wanted in that moment was for Bucky to be okay. That was the first and only time the Howling Commandos or anyone else in the US Army ever saw Captain America cry.

Steve was taken back to 1936 when he awoke finally from his fever to a kiss on the forehead from Bucky. They were face to face. He remembered how tightly Bucky had hugged him then. He tried to remember what Bucky had said but he couldn’t. Here he was, on the other side, and this felt horrible.Steve wondered where Bucky got the strength to watch him be sick like that and stay by his side night and day. He was so thankful to have Bucky in his life. He felt bad that he didn’t realize just how much he appreciated him until this moment.

They began stitching and Steve smiled a bit, remembering the “Mrs. Barnes” comment from before. They started an IV to give Bucky blood, and another to give him fluids. Steve looked up at the doctor and the nurses with a tear stained face and thanked them all.

“He’s gonna make it son” the doctor said as he put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“He needs rest and you need a shower” the doctor added. Steve nodded but he didn’t want to leave.

He looked back down at Bucky who now had a big clean bandage around his abdomen. He still hadn’t woken up. The nurse took a wet cloth and scrubbed the blood off of his hands and face, and chest. Steve slicked his hair back how he knew Bucky liked to wear it and the nurse came and wrapped him up with blankets.

“Go rest Cap, he needs to recover” she said with a sad smile. She unlocked Bucky’s bed and wheeled him off, a splatter of blood left where the bed once was.

————————

Bucky awoke in the middle of the night, gasping, confused, sweating. He looked around and saw a figure sitting next to him in a chair, his head resting against the wall. It was too dark in the ward to see. Bucky had IVs in his arms and fuck his belly hurt. He tried to sit up but let out a wail instead. This startled the figure next to him and the figure reached over to turn on the lamp on the table next to Bucky. The light blinded Bucky temporarily and after a moment of blinking, his eyes focused on the handsome, smiling blonde next to him.

“Steve?” He said, his mouth dry. He stared at Steve, mouth agape, he was confused.

“Steve what happened?” Bucky tried to sit up again and winced in pain. Tears welled up in his eyes. He reached for his left side and found a bandage. He shoved his blankets down and saw that he was wrapped up. He looked up to Steve with panic in his eyes.

“Bucky calm down, you got shot” Steve said. Hardly anything to be calm about Bucky thought.

“How? By who?” he said, his brow furrowed, his jaw tense.

“We think a Hydra agent followed us. Not sure how as I thought we cleaned them all up at that base, but I guess not apparently” Steve said, a twinge of anger in his voice.

“How did I get here?” Bucky asked. They were miles away from camp.

“I carried you” Steve said. The tears in Bucky’s eyes spilled over. Maybe it was the dehydration or the drugs but Steve? Carried him? He kept looking at Steve. It was the same face from all those years ago just on a bigger, healthier body. Those same beautiful eyes. Bucky noticed that he was crying and tried to compose himself. He loved this man. He just didn’t know what to do. It ate him up inside like a fire swallows an old barn and he cried. Steve wasn’t a Queer, right? It’s not like Bucky ever asked. And, well, he had that Peggy he fawned over. Emotions crashed in his brain and he couldn’t stop the tears.

Steve reached over and took ahold of Bucky’s hand with both of his and gave it a squeeze.

“Hey, calm down Buck” he said in a soft voice. Bucky wiped his tears and tried really hard not to cry anymore. Hearing the concern in Steve’s voice made his heart flutter. It wasn’t often he was on the receiving end of anything like this.

“You had me scared shitless back there Buck.” Steve admitted. Bucky looked to him again. Bucky made himself sit up, wincing as he did so, ignoring the mile protest from Steve, and faced him. He could see the pain in Steve’s face. Steve smiled and blinked a few times. He still had long beautiful eyelashes, the serum hadn’t changed that at least.

“I never seen anyone bleed that much. Never seen a surgery either. I’ve been here the whole time except for when the nurse made me leave and go wash up and change my clothes.” Steve said shyly.

Bucky by this time had managed to compose himself.

“You seen them fix me up?” Bucky asked. Steve nodded.

“Well at least you didn’t pass out” Bucky said with a small, painful laugh. This made Steve smile wide. Bucky would be alright.

“I had other things to focus on you jerk” Steve jokingly punched Bucky in the arm. The two relaxed and breathed. For a moment, everything felt like it was going to be okay.

“Steve I’m damn thirsty” Bucky finally said. Steve grinned.

“I’ll grab an Aide”

————————

Bucky healed up remarkably quick for someone who took a sniper round to the abdomen. Where the bullet had been was a scar, somehow already looking faded. You couldn’t even see where they had put in the stitches. No one was quite sure why or how he was able to heal up that fast but Bucky wasn’t complaining. It was Christmas Morning, 1944 and Bucky was a free man.

The base camp was muddy and dark all the time, day and night. But it had three hots and a cot so he couldn’t complain one bit. He hated field rations with a passion. Sure they got k-rations and c-rations most times and sometimes they had to make due with d-rations but nothing, and Bucky meant nothing compared to a hot, freshly cooked meal. This morning, it was cream chipped beef for breakfast. Bucky about keeled over when he saw all the hot steaming food and the fresh made biscuits. Normally it was served on toast but it was Christmas, so they tried to spruce it up a bit.

Bucky ate alone. He wanted to surprise Steve after breakfast with his being out of the med tent. He didn’t have a Christmas gift for Steve but ... he figured Steve would understand. As he ate, he thought back to the Christmas he bought Steve those expensive drawing pencils. He had saved up what he could from his job at the docks without Steve knowing. He had stuffed money in between the mattress and the box spring to hide it. And that was the Christmas, 1940, that Steve had somehow managed to get Bucky a pound of really nice Columbian coffee. Steve refused to tell how he had gotten something so expensive. Bucky knew it was expensive. But Steve said he wanted Bucky to have nice coffee before he spent all day at work. Steve always was thoughtful like that. 

They spent that Christmas sipping coffee and Steve drawing Bucky. Steve always seemed to be drawing Bucky. “You’re my muse” Steve would joke, a mischievous grin on his face. But Bucky never was sure if he was _just_ joking or if he meant it. Sometimes when Steve was asleep he’d go through those sketchbooks. Drawings upon drawings of Bucky. They all looked really nice too if Bucky did say so himself. He wondered if Steve ever drew him anymore. He knew Steve had a pocket sketchbook that he’d sometimes see him use, but he never looked...

After breakfast Bucky headed over to Steve and the commandos tent but Steve wasn’t there.

“Where’d that punk go?” Bucky asked.

“Ah he got swept up with a surprise visit from his lady friend“ the boy’s cackled at that and made kissing faces. Bucky’s face dropped.

_Godfuckingdamnit_ Bucky thought to himself.

Bucky had never known jealousy or envy his entire life. He was suave, good looking. Getting girls to fawn over him was easy, always had been. But ever since Steve got pumped up with whatever they put in him, the girls were blind to Bucky. That in of itself didn’t bother him so much as he really only had eyes for Steve anymore, but, the girls _fawned_ over Steve. They about fell over themselves to talk to him. If they ever went to a dance hall, the girls damn near fought over who got to dance with him. And that made Bucky _jealous_. Admittedly, he wanted Steve all for himself. He had been giving Steve all of his attention for years but when some pretty girls started paying attention to him, well he soaked that up like a dry sponge. Could Bucky blame him? No. Of course not. He still hated it though. He hated how he looked at Peggy.

On the walk over the the commander’s tent (where the Commandos said they had gone off to) Bucky reminisced on the past.

He remembered hot Brooklyn summers when the sun would shine bright and reflect off of Steve’s hair like a halo. How Steve would always get a sunburn every year on his nose and forehead, and how for a week straight he would look like he was blushing. He remembered them going to the beach and swimming in their underpants at night since neither had a bathing suit. There was something about the moonlight and the water that made everything seem like a dream. Maybe it was all a dream. It felt so long ago that it was just the two of them, doing what they could to get by and somehow always managing to do it.

Bucky wasn’t going to lie, he missed that scrawny kid in a way. Not that the “new” Steve was bad by any stretch of the imagination. It was just different and Bucky didn’t much like different. Maybe he just missed that innocent spark of youth, pure, and untarnished by the horrors of war and the torture by Hydra. Maybe that was it. Or maybe he hated having to share Steve with the world. Ever since he got beefed up, people fell over themselves to even get close to him. Where were they all before? Didn’t they know it was still the same kid inside? The serum only made him stronger, it didn’t create Captain America. That was all Steve.

Bucky didn’t have long to dwell on that before he came upon the commanders tent. Inside was Peggy, Steve, the commander, and a few others. At the center was a very pitiful pine tree branch that was decorated with spent rifle shells tied on with twine. What a Christmas.

“Oh! Lieutenant Barnes!” Peggy spoke up as soon as she saw him. She was dressed in her usual brown SSR Army dress uniform.

“Ms. Carter” he replied, curtly. It’s not that he hated Peggy but he didn’t much care for her either. She was a dime though, he wasn’t about to pretend he was blind. But Steve practically drooled over her and well, he hated that.

“Buck!” Steve shot up and came over to Bucky, pulling him into a hug. After a moment, Steve pulled back to look at him. “You healed up kinda fast though? It’s only been a couple days?” Steve questioned. That was a big wound he saw them sew up. He wasn’t mad but he didn’t understand how Bucky could heal that fast.

“I’m not sure honestly. Even the doctors were surprised at how fast I healed up. There’s hardly even a scar” Bucky lifted his shirt up to show Steve where the exit wound had been. Steve ran his finger over it, looking perplexed.

Warm hands Bucky thought. Wish they could... and Bucky stopped that thought in it’s tracks. He wasn’t alone, and this was not the time for that.

Bucky tucked his shirt back in and they turned their attention back to Peggy.

“I heard he carried you all the way back here? Is that right, Steve?” She asked. Steve nodded, his ears turning a bit red.

“It was only a few miles” he said, trying to downplay the feat and failing miserably.

“Well you’re very much a lucky man, Lieutenant. I’m happy you’re all back together in one piece.” She smiled warmly.

_Lucky man? I wish._

“Thank you, Miss” Bucky smiled warmly even if he didn’t mean it. Peggy turned her attention back to Steve. It’s like I’m invisible Bucky thought. Steve and Peggy met eyes and Bucky about rolled his. Steve had serious tunnel vision when Peggy was around.

“Well I came to collect those goggles you radioed about. Would you take me to them?” Peggy asked, looking a bit too happy about goggles at Steve.

Steve, almost tripping over himself, lead Peggy out of the tent. She smirked once Steve turned around and Bucky saw. He was full of red hot jealousy and he hated it. The two exited the tent.

_Great. Merry Christmas to me._

————————

Later on the commandos were all bedded down for the night but Bucky wasn’t able to sleep. Steve still hadn’t come back yet from spending all day with Peggy.

Maybe they were fucking? Bucky wondered. Nah, Steve’s too much of a goody goody.

Bucky had taken to sitting outside under a lamp post that was near their tent. It was chilly and lightly snowing. He was bundled up and he was just sitting, thinking, smoking cigarettes, and having some shitty whiskey that he nicked from the commanders tent. He wanted to drink himself into a stupor so he kept guzzling. He hated everything. He hated France. He hated the cold. He hated this Christmas. And most of all, he hated himself, for daring to fall for a man in 19 fucking 36, when such things would get you shot or worse. What the hell was he thinking? But what could he do? There was no one else on earth that he loved near as much. No one else he thought about when he was alone. No one else.

_Fuck_ he thought. _Just fuck._

He wanted to be numb. He was feeling too much all at once and he just wanted it to stop. Just for a bit. So Bucky kept drinking.

It wasn’t too long before Bucky heard the crunching of footsteps in the dark coming toward him. He looked up, a familiar silhouette was approaching him. Before the lamp could light up his face, he spoke.

“Bucky? What are you doing out here?” Steve asked, sounding concerned. Bucky looked up. He came up to Bucky and saw that Bucky’s eyes were glazed over from the booze. He reeked of cigarettes. There were several butts all around Bucky. Steve shook his head.

“How long have you been out here?” Steve asked. He reached out and touched Bucky’s face. “Fuck, you’re freezing!” Steve had no idea what was wrong. Bucky only drank like this when something was wrong. Steve saw the empty bottle of whisky next to him.

“Bucky come on we gotta get you inside you’ll freeze to death out here”. Steve moved to Bucky’s side and slid and arm under Bucky’s. He lifted and Bucky helped but was unsteady.

“Stevie...” Bucky whispered in his stupor as Steve helped him up. Steve paused and looked at Bucky. He hadn’t heard that since .....

_I love you, Stevie_

That’s what it was. That’s what Steve could never remember. What Bucky had said to him all those years ago. Steve’s mouth fell open and he just looked at Bucky. After a moment he snapped out of it. Steve helped Bucky into the tent and got him out of his coat and boots and wrapped him in a blanket. Bucky was ice cold. Steve didn’t know what to do, the tent wasn’t warm enough on its own. Steve decided to throw caution to the wind and he kicked off his shoes and coat, grabbed the blanket from his cot, and hopped into bed next to Bucky to warm him up. Bucky faced away from Steve and Steve threw the extra blanket over the two of them.

Bucky had done this for Steve more than once. Sometimes if the radiator was out in winter they’d sleep in the same bed. Or if Steve couldn’t get warm in winter no matter how high they turned up the heat. Sometimes they’d wake up, spooning, with Bucky holding him close. Steve never knew how to feel about that or what to even make about that. Honestly. Bucky always looked so happy on those mornings, and he would be quick to hide his beaming happiness though once he woke up fully, lest Steve ever caught on. Well, Steve was catching on.

The two laid like that until Bucky stopped shivering and had fallen asleep. Steve reached under the blanket to feel the skin ofhis back and Bucky had warmed up considerably. Bucky always was hot like a furnace, Steve remembered. As soon as Steve felt it was safe, he got into his own bed and wrapped up in the scratchy gray woolen blanket.

_I love you, Stevie_

_I love you, Stevie_

It played over and over in his head like a mockingbird. He laid there, facing the wall of the tent and he fell into a fitful sleep.

————————

Bucky awoke last with a pounding headache. He rubbed his eyes and took in the world around him. Someone had brought him to bed. He turned and looked and sitting on the cot across from him was Steve. Bucky sat straight up. The tent was empty except for them.

“Did you bring me to bed last night?”

“I did” Steve said. He looked unamused. His face looked like that of a disappointed parent.

“Why’d you down a whole bottle of whisky?” Steve asked. Bucky looked down at the blankets and fiddled with his hands.

“Don’t worry about it okay?” He managed.

“No, no I’m going to worry about it. You sat outside freezing and drinking. When I found you, you had almost passed out. You coulda died doing that shit. I don’t need you dying to stupid shit, Bucky!”

Oh how the tables have turned. Bucky remembered when he would lecture Steve about getting into fights he couldn’t win. And now, it was Steve’s turn.

“I said don’t worry about it, okay?” Bucky looked mad. He swung his legs out of bed and laced up his boots in a huff. He stood up and grabbed his coat and Steve stood up at the same time. They were face to face. Bucky still smelled like booze, it made Steve think of all the times Bucky came home drunk from the bars.

“Bucky you have got to talk to me” Steve pleaded. He knew something was wrong. He had been friends with this man too long to not know.

Bucky didn’t know what to do. His heart raced. He could not lie to Steve it was impossible on his part. And here and now he was being confronted. He thought he might choke. It was like he was breathing but not getting any air.

And as if it were a stroke of fate, Bucky felt like he was going to vomit.

“I think I’m gonna-” and he ran out of the tent and puked a good amount up.

Steve came out and patted him on the back, sighing.

“Go brush tour teeth you lug, we gotta move out after breakfast.” Steve said. He wouldn’t be getting any answers today.

————————

The two carried on as if nothing had happened. Any time Steve would even think about asking, Bucky would somehow find a way around it or a way to change the subject.

_I love you, Stevie_

That played in Steve’s head over and over and over. He’d hear it at night when he lay in bed, his friend who said it just a cot over. He’d hear it when he took watch. He dwelled on it. It gnawed at him. That phrase made him think of everything, everything that had ever happened between them in a new light. Steve was connecting the dots and realizing something within himself as well, something he wasn’t sure about. Something he didn’t know how to face.

Bucky on the other hand, suffered in silence. They still did missions, still killed Hydra soldiers by the dozen, they still hung out and drank and danced with girls at bars. Steve still swooned over that bitch Peggy. Things didn’t really change. He loved that blonde idiot. Always would. It ate him up inside but what could he do? What could he even do?

————————

The day Bucky fell off that train, he would never forget. Well, he would, but not by his own doing. The last thing he saw before he thought he died was Steve. It was always Steve, even there at the end. He felt something horribly painful, like the gunshot wound, in his left arm and then he hit the ground so hard he blacked out. There wasn’t time to think. Bucky just thought that this was it. This was the end of the line.

Much to Bucky’s surprise he awoke to being dragged away in the snow, his left arm now a bloody stump. 

_I’m not dead?_ was all he thought before he passed out again.

Bucky awoke again, who knows how much longer later to having a metal arm being put on. It fucking hurt goddam he thought. He looked up. He was surrounded by people in lab coats and weird machines and monitors.

_Where am I what’s happening what’s going on where’s Steve what’s happening?_ his brain was firing fast and he couldn’t think so he just reached out to attack before they tranquilized him. Back asleep. For who knows how long.

When he finally awoke and this time he wrongly thought for good, he was in the presence of Hydra scientists and a one Doctor Arnim Zola.

“Lieutenant Barnes! You’re awake! How good it is to see you. I see you’ve healed well” he said.

_Healed well?_

Bucky was still very foggy in the brain and he went to lean forward but found that this time he was restrained. He looked around. He was surrounded by people in lab coats and gloves who were all staring at him. His eyes finally landed on his metal arm.

“What did you do to me?!” He shouted. Doctor Zola smiled.

“James, we made you better. You’re our crowing achievement.” He smiled his sick smile. This brought back flashbacks. He had been caught and experimented on before. Was that how he healed so fast? What had they put into him? What had they done?

Bucky had to get out. Had to find Steve. Had to warn the others of what Hydra could do. They replaced his whole arm for fucks sake, what else’s could they do!? Bucky ripped his new arm free from the straps, shocked at his own strength. Zola sighed and looked disappointed.

“Lieutenant that is no way to treat my equipment! Put him back down! We must ready a containment chamber!” Zola ordered. Bucky ripped his other arm free and worked on his legs but he wasn’t fast enough. He felt a needle stick and then a warmth spread all over his body. He passed out.

He would awaken later, again, and this time he was strapped down with metal that he could not bend or break his way out of. He was in a smaller dim room, surrounded by computers and people once again. A man in a lab coat shoved something into his mouth and strapped it down around the back of his head so he couldn’t spit it out. It was like a mouthguard. A machine was brought up to his face, the larger part of it covered his left eye and the other piece sat on his right cheek.

Terrified, tied down, muzzled, Bucky struggled fruitlessly. A familiar voice began to speak.

“Lieutenant, we have reshaped your body. We have made you stronger. But your mind, your mind is weak. We must reshape the mind next, for you will become the next generation of Hydra!” Arnim Zola said with pride in his voice. He walked over to Bucky and stood above him, coming into view of his right eye.

“You are a masterpiece, truly. And we will reshape you, body, mind, and, soul, Lieutenant. You will leave your weak self behind and become self actualized with the guidance of Hydra. You will achieve great things, Lieutenant. I am sure of it”. Zola stepped away from view and gave a command in Russian that Bucky did not understand. Instantly, a pain the likes of which Bucky had never felt in his life shot through his face and head and throughout his whole body. It was like he was being electrocuted. His body convulsed and he screamed as much as he could with his mouth being stuffed. His muffled screams filled the chamber and he gripped the arms of the chair he was strapped to.

Another command was given in Russian after what felt like an eternity to Bucky and to those in the room and the pain ceased. Bucky felt confused. He felt like a part of him was missing somehow. He didn’t understand. He tried to remember how he had gotten here? What happened to his left arm he couldn’t feel it anymore? He closed his eyes and noticed that he was crying. Tears streaming down his face. Zola approached Bucky and stood over him.

“Zola!” Bucky said, his voice muffled by the mouth guard. He tried to escape the chair. He struggled against the restraints but they would not move. Zola shook his head and sighed.

“Lieutenant you have to let go. You must let go.” He said, sounding almost sad in a way. He stepped back and issued the same command again in Russian. The machine turned back on, and, once again, Bucky screamed. His chest heaved. The pain was unimaginable. Bucky thought he would pass out but he fought not to. As the machine kept whirring he calmed somehow. It was still unbelievably painful. Excruciating, even. But he ..... he forgot why he was mad. He forgot what he was mad about. Who had he been mad at?

The machine stopped again after another command. This time Zola approached but Bucky had no reaction. He felt like he almost knew the man but didn’t know from where. Bucky was crying but he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t sure of anything. Zola pushed the machine away from his face, and stepped into his full view.

“Lieutenant?” He asked.

_Lieutenant?_ Bucky thought.

“Lieutenant, are you with us?” Bucky blinked and his mouth hung open. His eyes looked empty. He looked so tired. His body and mind were exhausted. Zola smiled.

“See how easy it becomes when you submit to Hydra?” He said with a wicked smile. Bucky looked into his soulless eyes and panicked again but he didn’t know why. Zola raised an eyebrow. Zola turned his head to look at the others and said something in Russian. He placed the machine back onto Bucky’s face.

“Once more, Lieutenant Barnes, and then, you shall be ours”. Zola once again backed away and this time he pulled out a book.

“You will learn, Lieutenant, that Hydra is above all. That Hydra is the future for you, and for all mankind”.

Zola once again gave a command in Russian but it was different this time. The machine whirred on but did not hurt Bucky this time. He began reading in Russian to Bucky:

“Желание.

Ржавый.

Семнадцать.

Рассвет.

Печь.

Девять.

Добросердечный.

Возвращение на Родину.

Один.

Товарный вагон.”

He said this over and over in order, slowly, with purpose. Zola gave a hand signal for the operator to activate the machine. Once again Bucky was inflicted with pain beyond his understanding and the words were read to him, over and over. These words would haunt Bucky for the rest of his life. He would learn to hate them.

Zola kept reading and the machine kept working until Bucky forgot everything else that there was to this life except for the pain and the words. It consumed his mind. Everything else was gone. The undoing of Bucky Barnes was complete.

Eventually the machine quit whirring and Zola pushed it away, to gaze upon what he had done. Before him was a shell of a man. A shell who could be molded and commanded. Zola smiled. He had done it. He had created The Winter Soldier.

————————

James Buchanan Barnes was listed as “KIA” as there was no way he could have survived that fall. It just wasn’t possible. This destroyed Steve. He tried drinking, that didn’t work, he couldn’t get drunk. He tried drugs. Same thing. Tried beating up punching bags. Tried drawing. Nothing helped him feel better at all. The pain of the loss of his best friend extinguished his will to live. He lost his spark, the spring in his step. Missions just didn’t feel the same without Bucky. Nothing did.

Steve had nothing but a few photographs to remember Bucky by. He decided to keep Bucky’s funeral card in his inner chest pocket. It was a really nice photo of Bucky from right when he enlisted in his dress uniform, something Steve hadn’t seen since before he got the serum. On the reverse was The Hail Mary in Latin, Bucky’s personal favorite. How many times had Bucky prayed that over Steve when he was sick? Steve could still hear him whispering it.

Steve hated that it took Bucky dying for him to reconcile his feelings, for him to come to terms with himself.

————————

When Steve in 1945 flew that bomber straight into the ice, he knew he didn’t have to. He could have swam out from the wreck. He could have jumped out of the plane right before impact. There were a million things he could have done. He knew this. But he didn’t want to live in this world without his best friend, and so he chose not to. A heroic suicide mission. He knew he was going to die. Well, he had hoped so. He didn’t expect to be instantly frozen in the ice, only to be found 70 years later. That wasn’t part of the plan. He wanted to leave this all behind and be done. Not become a “Cap-cicle” as Tony had put it. That wasn’t what he wanted at all.

On the other hand, Bucky was trained, beaten, frozen, thawed, memory wiped, and re-frozen over and over and over for decades. They would thaw him when they needed him, scramble his brains so he would stay obedient, and put him back on ice until they needed him later. Bucky lived a horrendous cycle of pain and death over and over. Sometime though, when he would be thawed for longer periods of time, he would begin to remember things. 

He would remember falling off a train, a blonde man reaching out for him. He remembered feeling crushed that this was it, and he was somehow sad when he thought of the blonde man. He would feel a deep ache in his chest. He didn’t know why. He couldn’t remember. Hydra had taken that from him.

He would remember snippets of a life gone by. Of sitting by a radio, reading the morning paper. Of dancing with girls at dance halls and bars. Of marching through the snow, a special made sniper rifle slung across his back. Offighting side by side with that blonde man. He would remember that he was once fighting against Hydra. When he stumbled upon that memory his handlers would oftentimes subdue him and wipe his memory again. Bucky lived in a constant fog of almost remembering but never quite getting there. He felt like a puzzle that was missing a lot of pieces. Like the real person inside of himself was taking a back seat for his entire life to a monster. Wanting to drive but if he ever got too close to putting his hands on the steering wheel, he’d be wiped and packed away.

When Bucky finally met Steve again, for the fist time in 70 some odd years his world shattered. He was sent to kill Nick Fury but ran into the blonde man from his memories and dreams. How? How was that possible? He looked exactly the same?

“Bucky?” The blonde man would ask.

_Bucky?_ the name sounded somehow familiar. Like a long forgotten song. Like a once familiar scent. He hadn’t been called anything but “Soldat” or “Asset” in..... how long had it been?

“Who the hell is Bucky?” The Winter Soldier would reply. For the first time in decades he questioned who he was and what he was doing. He faltered on a mission. He had never done so. He was renowned for his ruthlessness and precision. The Winter Soldier was fabled to have no weaknesses....

“That man on the bridge, who was he?” Bucky would ask.

"You met him earlier this week on anotherassignment” Pierce would answer shortly. That didn’t sit well with him. That was the man from his memories. The man from his past, somehow, here, alive, after all these years. Somehow. He felt himself tear up.

"I knew him” he managed to say. And he meant it. Pierce saw what was happening and had him put back in the memory wipe machine, and this time if felt like a punishment. While the pain racked his body he focused on one thing and one thing alone: that blonde man. He was his ticket out of this hell, Bucky was sure of it.

“He looked right at me, he didn’t even know me.” Steve said. He was crushed that Bucky didn’t recognize him. But Steve didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, that Bucky somehow recognized him, but the Winter Soldier did not. Steve decided right then and there that he would do whatever it took to get Bucky back. He would tear Hydra apart himself if that’s what it took. He had thought Bucky was dead for all these years and to finally see him, to finally see the man who loved him most... Steve’s chest ached when he thought of Bucky, when he wondered what they had done to him. He had a metal arm now and eyes that looked dead. Devoid of the spark they used to have.

_What had Hydra done!?_

When Bucky would meet Steve again on the helicarier, The Winter Soldier would fail his very first mission. The only mission he had ever failed in 70 years.

“You know me!” The blonde man would yell, as the two fought each other.

“No! I don’t!” Bucky would wail. He didn’t. Not really. He only remembered him, somehow, from some past that he wasn’t even sure happened. From dreams he’d have. Bucky wasn’t sure about anything anymore. He had his mission, to kill Captain America and ensure the Hydra helicarriers come online.

“Bucky! You’ve known me your entire life! Your name is James Buchanan Barnes-“

“Shut up!” Bucky would wail like an animal. He couldn’t focus. He had his mission. He must complete the mission. He must! There were other Winter Soldiers in cryo waiting to be thawed the moment Bucky became outdated, the moment he failed. The two would clash and Bucky would fight with a fervor he didn’t know he could muster. He felt anguish and pain and confusion.

“I’m not gonna fight you.... you’re my friend” Steve would drop his shield and it would fall into the water below. Bucky couldn’t understand why. Why would this blonde man from his memories who Bucky was very clearly trying to kill do this? This had never happened before. Most of the people Bucky fought would fight him tooth and nail. Bucky would eventually tackle Steve and punch him repeatedly in the face, throwing his entire body weight into the punches.

“You’re my mission! You’re.... my... mission....” Bucky said as he punched Steve over and over in the face until Steve’s face was bloody. He was on top of Steve now. A few more blows with his metal arm would probably kill him. Bucky faltered, he looked into Steve’s blue eyes, they looked so familiar. He pulled back to strike.

“Then finish it.” Steve began, and Bucky looked on, panting, his body tired, “‘Cause I’m with you... ‘til the end of the line” Steve would rasp. He looked at Bucky and did nothing to fight back. Steve was resigned again to death if that’s what it took.

Bucky looked at Steve and his face looked so familiar, a scuffed up face he’d seen before somehow...and in an instant was transported back to an alley way in Brooklyn as he looked down upon a beat-up skinny Steve Rogers.

“Why do you always gotta pick fights” he would sigh as he squat down before Steve to better see the damage. Steve would look fake mad, almost pouty. He knew Bucky cared and that’s why he was asking. Bucky pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away some of the blood. Steve attempted to protest and push Bucky off but Bucky insisted.

“Your mom’s going to be mad you got blood on your shirt again” Bucky would mumble.

“She don’t understand” Steve said sounding defeated. Bucky didn’t understand either but he knew he couldn’t change his friend. He didn’t want to either. He loved this skinny kid the way he was, feisty attitude and all.

“Well, was it for a good reason this time?” Bucky would ask as he helped Steve up. Steve looked mad again.

“It’s always for a good reason, Buck!” He would say, anger in his voice. Bucky looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“So you mean to tell me that that time you got mad at someone for being loud in a movie, and ended up getting a broken rib, was a good reason to fight?” Bucky asked. He’d never let Steve live that one down. Steve frowned.

“You know that one didn’t count!”

“I’m counting it, kid. That counted.” Bucky said with a sarcastic tone. Steve jokingly slapped Bucky’s arm and Bucky wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulders.

“We had better get you home and get you cleaned up” Bucky said. If it meant a life of looking after Steve, Bucky didn’t mind. He was going to be there with him ‘til the end of the line, just like he had promised.....

Just as Bucky had this flashback the glass broke and Steve fell through. For a moment Bucky watched Steve fall. His mission would be complete, he had beat the pulp out of Steve and he wouldn’t be able to swim out of this one. But then a realization would hit him, like a switch being flipped in his brain.

“STEVE!” Bucky would yell, panic washing over him. He dove after Steve, he had to get him out of the water. Steve was his way out, somehow, Bucky felt it in his heart to be true. As he dove off of the helicarrier he remembered falling, long ago... long before this all started.

He hit the water and swam hard after Steve who was totally passed out from the beating he had taken. From the beating Bucky had paid out. Bucky felt horrible as he pulled him from the water and dragged him to shore. Bucky squat next to Steve and made sure he was breathing. Something in him are him reach out and touch his face and hair. But he didn’t stay. He knew if he stayed he’d be killed. He really didn’t want to leave. He had a million questions for the blonde man, for Steve he thought. But they would have to wait.

Bucky would spend the next six months moving from place to place, never staying anywhere long. He couldn’t, he was a fugitive and he knew it. He would have to move places once someone recognized him. He’d work odd jobs here and there and then vanish once a paper said they had seen him or if he saw people pointing and whispering. Every day he remembered more and more and understood more of what was happening. He hated it. Honestly. He wanted to go home but he didn’t feel like he had a home. Not really. Home once upon a time was Brooklyn, he remembered, with Steve. They had a home once. It felt like such a far away memory.

Bucky had to grapple with the crushing reality of what had happened, of what he had done while under Hydra’s control. Of how many years that were just somehow.... gone. That was one of the hardest things for him to comprehend. He himself had maybe been unfrozen for a total of maybe 10 years over the past seven decades. That was something very hard for him to understand was just how much time had passed and yet here he was still looking young, despite being 90 some odd years old. When he looked in the mirror he almost didn’t feel like he recognized himself. Shaggy hair. Scars from battles he barely remembers. The eyes were the same, even if he didn’t feel like they were. In there, somewhere, was Bucky Barnes, and every single day he was getting closer to finding him.

————————

Bucky would be reunited with Steve but it wouldn’t be for very long. Shortly after their fight with Tony Stark, Bucky would voluntarily go on ice in order to clear his mind of Hydra’s control with the help of Shuri. Once T’Challa came to understand Bucky’s plight, he would enlist his sisters help to remove the trigger words and set Bucky’s brain right.

“This isn’t guaranteed to work” Shuri would warn Bucky.

“It’s a chance I have to take” Bucky would reply. “We can’t have someone who knows the code words use them against me again”. Shuri nodded.

“I will make a model of your mind while you are asleep and work on that first before I actually try it on you. I will remove the trigger words and hopefully not damage any memories” she said. This would be the first time she would do something like this.

“Your memories may be on display for me to see, is that alright with you?” She asked. Bucky nodded.

“I don’t really have a choice. Just, please don’t share them” Bucky would shrug his shoulders. There was so much he remembered but not all of it. He just wanted the trigger words gone.

“Then we shall get started. Captain Rogers is here to see you” she said. Bucky perked up at this and Steve came into the room.

“Are you sure about this?” Steve looked uneasy and he was. There was so much to talk about but Bucky felt so uneasy knowing he could be taken advantage of again that the two really hadn’t had any time to talk. Steve had so many things to say, and ask, but they would have to wait. Bucky’s mental health came first.

“I can't trust my own mind.” Bucky would start, “So, until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head I think going back under is the best thing...for everybody” Bucky didn’t like the idea of being put on ice again. He had spent the last 70 years being in and out of cryo. But one last time and then he could be free? That was worth it to him.

“Well, if you think it’s for the best then it must be. I’ll miss you.” Steve would say. Bucky would give Steve a sad smile. There was something about those sad looking blue eyes that tugged on his heartstrings, and having to be away from Steve for any amount of time sounded awful.

Steve would stay for Bucky being put under, and he would sit next to his cryo chamber for a few hours in silence, one hand on the chamber, gazing at Bucky. No one disturbed him. Shuri had brought up her scanner and set it to work on Bucky’s mind while Steve sat and watched.

“I’m not sure how long this will take Captain Rogers” she would say as the machine scanned Bucky’s mind. It was a small machine that emitted a blue-purple light that danced across Bucky’s brow and face. Slowly as it scanned things popped up on the display before Shuri’s eyes. Steve stayed for hours as more and more was projected before Shuri. Eventually the scanner would stop and she would take both hands and push the projection out, making several things expand and move. In the center was a plasma ball looking thing that was spinning slowly, surrounded by moving images and words.

“Captain Rogers, I will have to ask you to leave now. Lieutenant Barnes asked me not to share any memories with anyone, I must work on this alone” her face was serious. Steve nodded. He took one last look at Bucky and laid a hand on the tube. He sighed.

“I’ll be back for you”

————————

Shuri would spend hours sifting through Bucky’s mind. There was so much damage, so many unlinked memories and pain and hurt. She wished she could fix it all but that was not what they had agreed to and she was going to stay true. She was slowly finding and removing just the trigger words. As she sifted she found so many memories of Steve and him, she smiled. It was like they were bound to each other, all throughout time and space, always finding their way back to each other. _Birds of a feather flock together_ she would think.

She didn’t dwell on that but was genuinely surprised by all the _love_ she found he had for Steve. She didn’t take Bucky to be that way, but maybe underneath his Winter Soldier shell there was someone much more soft. She worked for a solid week at removing the trigger words. They were very hard to find and extract, even when she knew them. They were embedded in Bucky. She struggled with not damaging his mind. But by removing all the trigger words it seemed to open up paths between memories more. She wondered if Bucky would remember more after being woken up? How would he react to the trigger words? Would he even actually remember them? That would be something they would test later.

————————

Steve would not be there when Bucky was finally brought out of cryo. When Bucky would finally wake up, he felt so much different. Right in the lab, Shuri read him his trigger words with people on standby with tranquilizer darts and nothing happened. For the first time in 70 years nothing happened. Bucky couldn’t believe it.

“What’s next?” Bucky would ask.

“We have set aside a home for you on a farm. You need time to think, recover, and learn. We have so much to teach you about fighting, but more importantly, life. There’s a lot you missed, Lieutenant Barnes”. Bucky nodded. He really could use some rest not fighting and not being on the run. His head ached. Bucky stood up shakily and was taken outside. The sun was blinding. A car was waiting for him, with a woman driver.

“She will take you to your home. I will meet up with you later”

“Thank you, so much, for what you have done for me. Thank you. You have no idea how much better I feel knowing I can’t be taken advantage of like that any more.” Bucky thought he’d cry but he stopped himself. Shuri nodded and smiled.

“It was a fascinating experience, and I learned a great deal from it. I think it can even help develop our AI here in Wakanda. That remains to be seen, however.” The two shook hands and Bucky would be driven off to a small hut out on an empty field with goats and a barn nearby. Inside the hut was clothing, in the traditional Wakandan style and food. Some much needed food. Bucky would sit on his new bed and rest and relax. His head still hurt and he wasn’t sure why, it never used to hurt when he would thaw. He eventually would fall asleep with a nice full belly and dream.

He dreamed of a chilly winter’s evening, the snow lightly falling outside, and hot apple cider on the stove, just like Sarah Rogers used to make. The apartment was filled with the scent of apples and cinnamon, and the smell of the radiatior never quite stopping pumping out heat. Steve and Bucky were sitting on their small sofa together, hot cider in hand, under a blanket, listening to a radio serial, a murder mystery series.

Bucky dreamed he put an arm around Steve’s bony shoulders and pulled him close. He dreamed they sat like that until the show was over. Bucky felt himself smiling even though they were listening to a murder mystery. He couldn’t focus on the show anyway, not when Steve was so close. The show ended and Steve turned to look up at Steve. Even when they sat there was such a height difference.

“That was a good one Bucky I wonder how they’ll top that next week” Steve would say and then had a sip of cider.

“Not sure. We’ll find out though”. Bucky smiled and leaned down to kiss Steve; he tasted sweet like apple cider and spices.......

Bucky awoke and sat upright fast. That wasn’t a memory but just a dream. He put his hand to his chest and ugly cried. He wished he could see Steve right now but he was in the middle of Wakanda on some farm and didn’t even have so much as a cellphone. His heart ached so much, for the first time in years it ached hard. Bucky was flooded with thoughts and memories. He figured something with removing his trigger words maybe unblocked these memories? Why was he remembering suddenly all the times he helped Steve up after a fight, or even that time he carried him home. Or how when they ate caramel apples in the fall Steve would always have caramel stuck to his nose. How in the war he would do everything in his power to keep Steve safe. He became the best sniper in the US Army just to keep him safe. Even if he could never have Steve he still loved him and wanted to take care of him.

_I still love him._

He knew it in his bones to be true. His head swam with memories and he cried more, half from the headache that would not go away and the other half from decades of feelings of unrequited love suddenly rushing back, drowning him. In the short time they had spent together before he came to Wakanda, they had laughed and smiled and hugged a lot. Bucky had felt himself be warm for the first time in decades. He knew it was all still there and he hated that he never said anything. He didn’t know, even now, if he would say anything. If he even could. He had seen him and Sharon. How girls still just tripped over themselves to be with Steve.And he still hated it. He still fuckin hated it.

————————

Weeks would go by and Bucky had gotten used to working on the farm. He had never really been on a farm before so it was a very unique change of pace for him. Everything was hard with one arm but he had all the time in the world out here, so Bucky began to learn patience. Children from the local village would come to pester him. It wasn’t often a one-armed white guy visited so he understood their fascination.

Many children wanted specifically to play with his hair, so it was more often than Bucky would like that he had beads and braids and all whatever the kids would put in it. “As long as it’s out of my eyes” he would stipulate, as he had work to do and could not pull his own hair back with one arm. The kids loved the attention and Bucky found it relaxing when they weren’t tugging on his hair. They would chatter about their day or play with the goats he tended. It was almost idyllic in a way, Bucky could see himself laying out on the pasture with his goats forever if it weren’t lacking one very important person: Steve.

Other days he would go through training to learn more fighting techniques from the local Wakandan warriors. Some days he would just do yoga and learn to meditate, which admittedly he really liked, but was again difficult having only one arm. Sometimes a therapist named Brenden would come out and just talk to him. He didn’t much like the therapist at first. He understood why he was there but he came from a time where you didn’t talk about your feelings like that, so he was never quite comfortable. Brenden was a small man with graying blonde hair and murky blue eyes. He always dressed semi casual for their visits. He also had a blue small pocket notebook that he’d scribble in. The outside of it read “Barnes, J. B.”

“Why don’t you want to talk to me? I’ve worked with lots of veterans before, I have experience with these sorts of things” Brenden would say. Bucky would grumble and purse his lips.

“I already had one man mess with my mind, I’m not too privy to letting another” he would admit.

“But you let Shuri literally inside your mind to help you, which by the way I’ve seen her machines it’s fascinating stuff but it’s all beyond me. You didn’t have a guarantee on that at all, though. I can’t see directly inside like she could.” Brenden countered.

_Fuck he’s not wrong_

“I didn’t much have a choice.” He would say, deflecting.

“Yes you did Bucky. You always did. And you chose to let her help you.” Brenden had sad eyes. He knew Bucky was traumatized and knew how difficult it could be. How difficult it almost always was. He had worked with several veterans with PTSD. He wondered if Bucky had that as well. They hadn’t spoken enough for him to think that quite yet.

“You’re not just going to snap back to how you were in 1943, Bucky. No one can do that.” Brenden would say. Bucky looked up at him in the eyes with a hurt, confused look in his face.

“I ...” he would look down. “I just want to be normal”. He would exhale hard and fight back tears. His mind was burdened with so many things, so many emotions and memories. It was all so hard.

“You’ve been put into extraordinary circumstances. You’re going to have to accept this new “normal” if you ever want to move forward. Things don’t always just fall back into place.” Bucky would look away for a moment and peer over to his goats and ponder his options. His mind was a mess. The nightmares were constant. Everything was confusing. Maybe he could help. What would he have to lose?

“Do you think you could help me sort some things out?” Bucky would ask suddenly, still looking at the pasture. Brenden smiled a small smile.

“I can certainly try” he said. Bucky nodded.

“Where do you want to start?” Brenden added.

“Let’s start in 1936. This whole mess starts and ends with _him_. So we’ll begin there I guess.”

————————

Bucky had spent a few months out on the pasture. He was beginning to find peace within himself. The nightmares were less frequent. He was really starting to believe that his therapist was helping. He still didn’t quite like the idea of telling a stranger your problems like that but, well, if it helped it helped, he figured. He was enjoying his simple life, even if it was quite different from anything he had ever done before. There was nothing quite like Wakanda.

Wakanda at night made Bucky think of the time that The Howling Commandos stumbled upon an abandoned farmhouse on a lake in France, sometime after Christmas. It was a wooded area, and the house was recently abandoned, as if the people just up and left one day. The area was beautiful and they decided to camp there for the day. They did a sweep of the house and found nothing of interest, until Bucky found the root cellar. Bottles upon bottles of beer and casks of wine. Bucky remembered grabbing as much as he could and coming up the stairs with an armful of booze.

“Boys, we hit the jackpot!”

It ended up being homemade beer and strawberry wine. They hadn’t had any alcohol in weeks. They all could afford a hangover in the morning. They made a fire in the fireplace and sipped beers and joked and laughed. Bucky noticed that Steve had wandered off to the back of the house and decided to follow after him after a few minutes. Steve had lit a candle and was looking at some books on a shelf in a bedroom. The books were all in French but of course, Steve knew French.

“What are you doing back here?” Bucky asked, his words slurring slightly from the alcohol. Steve wasn’t a drinker anymore, not like he used to be before he got juiced up with the serum. Steve turned to look at him, holding a book, the candlelight barely illuminating Steve’s face.

“Well, someone lived here. You can learn a lot about a person just by the books they have on their shelves”. Steve beckoned Bucky over. He came close to Steve, the light was dim and he could hardly see the text in the book unless he was close. His breath smelled of beer. Like before, when Bucky had gotten so drunk he damn near froze. Steve wished Bucky would just talk to him about what was up that night but he wasn’t going to press it. He had learned to give that one up.

“Look here, it’s poetry. Poetry in a farm house.” Steve scoffed and then rattled off the stanzas of the short poem, his French pretty good but definitely not fluent. Bucky just looked at him as he spoke, mesmerized by this man who was constantly surprising him. Even after all their time together.

“What’s it say?” Bucky asked. Steve shook his head.

“Ah it’s just a love poem is all”.

“Well I don’t read French, what’s it say in English?” Bucky asked. Steve pursed his lips and began to read once more.

_“The high Midnight was garlanding her head_

_With many a shining star in shining skies,_

_And, of her grace, a slumber on mine eyes,_

_And, after sorrow, quietness was shed._

_Far in dim fields cicalas jargonéd_

_A thin shrill clamour of complaints and cries;_

_And all the woods were pallid, in strange wise,_

_With pallor of the sad moon overspread._

_Then came my lady to that lonely place,_

_And, from her palfrey stooping, did embrace_

_And hang upon my neck, and kissed me over;_

_Wherefore the day is far less dear than night,_

_And sweeter is the shadow than the light,_

_Since night has made me such a happy lover.”_

_Since night has made me such a happy lover_ Bucky snickered at that last bit. Steve turned to him with an incredulous face.

“Something funny?” He asked. Bucky looked up into his eyes. Steve had just such a handsome visage, and they were so close, Bucky felt his heart ache at what could be. Steve slowly closed the book but didn’t take his eyes off of Bucky. He felt like he couldn’t. The air between them was charged. Bucky reached up and put a hand on Steve’s arm. Steve’s eyes flitted between Bucky’s eyes and his lips. There was something about Bucky’s rough unshaven face, something about that look in his eyes.....

“We should- we should get back” Steve said, breathless after a moment. He turned away and put the book back on the shelf. Bucky took a step back. Steve grabbed the candle and turned and faced Bucky. He looked flustered. Bucky felt like his soul left his body. There was something there, that was the closest he’d ever been. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it. He looked down at the floor and left, grabbed another bottle of beer, and sat in front of the fire with the boys. He stared into the fire and wished it would consume him. Anything had to be better than this....

Bucky would think back on that memory a lot, especially when he’d make a fire. He’d be sitting alone in the dark with a fire roaring and would be taken back to that night, and to many others. His heart ached when he thought of how he just never said anything. How could he have, back then? Things were so different back then. And when had they had the time to really sit and talk, now? There was always a fight. It was never the right time.

The day came when T’Challa and Okoye both paid him a visit. They were followed by soldiers. They had a metal box which was opened to reveal a new dark vibranium arm in it for Bucky. Bucky approached the box. He looked on in horror because he knew this could only mean one thing.

“Where’s the fight” he asked, his gaze not leaving the box.

“On it’s way” T’Challa would answer.

They would attach the new arm to his stump.

“I’m sorry this did not come sooner. Shuri spent a lot of time making you a new one that would attach correctly and meet all your needs” T’Challa said as the arm snapped on with ease. Bucky looked at his new left arm and made a fist. It flexed much easier than the old silver one. He stretched out his new hand and turned it around, inspecting it. He looked up to T’Challa.

“Thank you. For everything” Bucky would salute him and T’Challa would return one.

“Get yourself ready. Captain Rogers and the others will be here in a few hours. Someone will return to pick you up”. T’Challa nodded and the company left. Bucky undid his hair and ran now both hands through it. It was long. Longer than he’d ever had it. He needed a shower. He needed a shave. It was time he got cleaned up.

“How ya been Buck?”

“Not bad, for the end of the world”

Bucky would hug Steve and the hug would last a little longer than the others were comfortable with. Bucky didn’t care. It had been three months since he had seen Steve face to face and that had felt like an eternity. Having him here in his arms felt like heaven.

The group discussed the plan for the upcoming battle and Bucky learned more about Thanos. He didn’t quite understand how magic stones could let him do what they feared he would do, but he figured no one else really understood it either.

Bucky’s understanding, or lack thereof, would not matter in the end. He got dusted. Eliminated. It was as if he hadn’t existed at all. Steve grasped futilely at a handful of his ashes. He sat in shock. He wouldn’t cry until later. And later he would weep. They hadn’t had time to talk really once they had met again, Thanos was coming and they had to make preparations to fight. They were always fighting. Always something to stop them from being alone and discussing what was clearly going on between the two of them.

For five years Steve hated his life and everything in it. All he had left of Bucky was his death card from 1945. It was tattered on the edges and worn. The prayer on the back was faded, the picture on the front faded too.Natasha had had it laminated for him after The Snap. She had caught him looking at it one day, as he was sitting on a sofa.

“What is that?” She asked. She could clearly see Bucky’s face on it but it looked so different. Steve looked up, his eyes red from crying.

“It’s- it’s Bucky’s original death card. From when he fell off that train. We all thought he died. We even had a service for him. We had no idea. I’ve kept it in my chest pocket since that day. It was even on me when I got thawed from the ice”. Steve handed it over. Natasha marveled at the young hopeful face of Bucky on the front. She gently flipped over the tattered card. She couldn’t believe Steve had held onto it for this long. She held it and looked up at Steve.

“Do you want me to laminate it?” She asked. Clearly it was important to him and it wouldn’t last in this state.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a protective plastic you put on it. Makes things water proof and last damn near forever” she said with a smile.

“Oh, I guess that would be nice I suppose”. He sniffed. Natasha looked at Steve with a furrowed brow. She knew she was about to tread into uncharted waters but what mattered anymore? Half the fucking world was dead and gone. Nothing really mattered anymore she figured.

“Steve, was Bucky.... we’re you two.... together? Ever?” She asked. Steve looked up at her. Natasha had never seen Steve smile so much as when Bucky was around. He cried a lot when Peggy died, sure, but this time with Bucky it was so different. It had been months since The Snap, and he could still be caught crying. He had grown very reclusive. That didn’t happen when Peggy passed.

“No, we weren’t.” Steve said and he looked at the ground and sighed. He looked back up at Natasha.

“He loved me though. He always had. I didn’t realize it until, well, until shortly before I lost him the first time.” His voice cracked at that thought, of him falling, and Steve not going after him. That was a regret that weighed heavy on him even now.

“You two were friends before the war, right?” Natasha asked. She cocked her head in a quizzical manner.

“Yeah, yeah we were. I met him, man, sometime in the early twenties? He fought off a pack of older kids who were really giving me an ass kicking.” Steve laughed a small laugh and shook his head. “I used to be so small and sick all the time. He was always there, making sure I was alright, especially after my mom died. My mom called him ‘her second son’ even.” He trailed off, lost in a memory.

“Do you love him too?” Natasha asked. Steve looked at her for a moment and blinked a few times.

“Yeah, yeah I think I do” Steve would say with a sigh. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“No one wanted me before I was big, before they gave me that serum. He’d drag me out to double dates and the girls would dance with me out of obligation, not because they wanted to. He’d make sure my hair was slicked back nice and my tie done right ‘for the girl’s’ he’d say, but, I’d catch him looking at me more than his dates sometimes....” Steve trailed off for a moment. “It wasn’t until years later that I started to connect the dots”

Natasha sighed.

“Well, the best we can do I suppose is try not to let his death be in vain. None of their deaths, really.” She didn’t know what else to say. She wasn’t t expecting this kind of bombshell from Steve.

“But how?” He would ask.

“What would Bucky want you to do?” She asked, looking once more at Bucky’s picture on the death card.

“He’d want me to be happy” Steve finally said after several moments of pondering.

“Well, now we just have to figure out how to make that happen” Natasha said with a sad smile. Steve just looked at her. He didn’t know how he was supposed to be happy without his best friend at his side. Maybe he’d figure that out.

————————

Bucky awoke in an overgrown field, face down. It was twilight in Wakanda. He knew it was Wakanda, that’s where he had been fighting.But he didn’t remember the grass being this tall? He pushed himself up onto his knees and brushed the hair and dirt off of his face. He looked around. The field was empty except, except for some others who were getting up off the ground as well. Bucky reached for his gun.

A golden, sparkling like a sparkler on the Fourth of July kind of hole opened up before him. A man with dark hair and a mustache wearing a red cape and honestly looking ridiculous appeared out of it, floating just a bit over the ground.

“Bucky there literally isn’t enough time in the world to explain this one but you have to go fight with the Avengers. They need you. They need everyone” the man waved his hands and a second sparkling opening appeared.

“And you are?” Bucky asked, getting himself to a standing position.

“I’m Doctor Steven Strange. I work with the Avengers. They need help. Now, more than ever, to defeat Thanos” Bucky mulled his options. He looked at his weapon, and then back at the floating man before him.

The Avengers needed him. Wasn’t that what they were doing out here before, fighting Thanos? What had happened? This field wasn’t this overgrown earlier that day ....

Bucky nodded. “Alright”. He figured the man was telling the truth despite never meeting him before. He had seen enough strange flying men in a cape so this wasn’t a surprise. He went through the portal. It was an odd sensation, like wind whooshing by him but as he took a few steps he appeared on a battlefield. It was dark, smokey, the area was in ruin. He didn’t know where he was or what was happening. He was surrounded by more and more openings of portals and people stepping out of them. People he didn’t know. Some he recognized, though. Off in the distance, he saw a very familiar red, white, and blue suit. But his shield was broken in two. Everyone began walking up to meet Steve. It was hundreds, maybe thousands of people? Who were all these people?

“Avengers! Assemble!” Steve would roar and everyone would charge forward. Bucky recognized these enemies, they looked like the ones they had fought before in Wakanda. They had killed so many of them before, how were there more? Where did they come from? He was confused but he fought because Steve was fighting and it was clear something was up.

The battle raged on, legions versus legions, he had never seen anything like it. In his 95 years he never thought he’d live to see flying alien space monsters, much less fight them twice.

During the battle, Sam Wilson would touch down in front of Bucky.

“Do you know what the hell is happening?” He asked, panting.

“Sure don’t, but I shoot what Steve shoots” Bucky said before firing off a round into the head of an enemy.

“I’m gonna need more bullets soon I’m not sure I can take these with just my bayonet...” Bucky would add.

“Some dude came through a glitter hole and got me. I thought y’all were fighting Thanos already?” Sam asked.

“I mean we were but I woke up face down in an overgrown field in Wakanda. It wasn’t like that when we got there this morning. So something must have happened” Bucky pushed his hair out of his face and looked at Sam.

“Someone better tell us something” Sam said, shaking his head. He leapt up and was carried off by his jet pack. Bucky watched him glide over the smoke and flames and chaos of the battle ground.

The fight went on and on, and eventually Bucky ran out of ammo and had to take cover. Maybe he could find a weapon off of a dead alien? He kept low and searched the ground for anything he could use to fight. He spotted a discarded weapon and headed to it, weaving between rubble, keeping low. He reached the weapon and stretched out a hand to grab it but it turned to ash before he could reach it. He looked up, and all the enemies were turning into ash.

_Oh shit_. Bucky thought.

_I did that, I turned to ash!_

Bucky suddenly remembered turning to dust, he remembered the confused look on Steve’s face. He remembered feeling his body crumble. Had he died? How was he here, now? He remembered nothing after hitting the ground. It was like he was deep in a dreamless sleep. He stood up and surveyed the battleground. Dust was floating everywhere. Ships in the sky were fading away into dust. Everything, dusted. It was weirdly terrifying to see, whole beings just disintegrating, their existence only but a memory.

Across the battle field Bucky managed to pick Steve out and started heading over to meet him. Steve had dropped his broken shield, his head was in his hands. Bucky quickened his pace, his head swam with emotions. It had been so long since he had seen his friend and to be reunited in such a fashion? It was awful, but it was a reunion nonetheless. Steve dropped down to his knees, head still in his hands. Bucky approached and saw what was the matter. Tony’s lifeless body stared out over the horizon, the light gone from his eyes. Bucky did not really know the man, and if he was being honest, he didn’t like him much either. But Steve had told them about their friendship over the years, so he got down on the ground next to Steve and put an arm around him in silent support. Nothing hurt like losing a brother in arms. Bucky knew this.Steve took his helmet off and revealed a tear stained face.

“I can’t believe it” Steve whispered. He was stunned and exhausted and now his friend, no, his _brother_ was dead. This death hurt him almost as much as Natasha’s. These two had sacrificed it all, and they were never the people you’d think to do that. Maybe that’s what made their sacrifices so meaningful? Who would expect an ex Russian spy who skirted the lines between good and evil to give herself up for the Soul Stone? And who would think the self proclaimed billionaire playboy philanthropist could do the same? Steve never did. No one ever did. Steve felt bad that he ever underestimated them.

Bucky ran a hand through Steve’s hair without a thought, he was trying to calm him down. This moment reminded him of the night Steve’s mother died. He remembered the moment her hand went limp as it held onto Steve’s. He remembered how hard Steve cried, his body racked with sobbing. Bucky pulled him out of her room and the two sat out on the fire escape in the cold night air. Steve needed air, needed to be anywhere but right there in that moment. Bucky remembered sitting there, side by side, running his hand through Steve’s hair. Bucky had seen Steve’s mom do so many many times before, especially after he had taken a beating.

Bucky said nothing. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t quite understand what had happened, or how he had arrived to this massive battle field. There were a lot of questions he had. But in that moment, he sat there, arm around Steve, the love of his life, and was content. Even with the sorrow around him, he felt nothing but contentment. He could stay by Steve’s side come hell or high water for all of time if God would let him.

————————

The night before Steve returned the stones, he was sitting out on a couch at Stark Tower. They all had decided to hole up there for the time being, after the funeral, to collect their thoughts and move on. The people who were brought back had a lot of paperwork to do, and some didn’t have anywhere to live anymore. This was an easy solution.

Steve, for years, when he had to make a big decision or just needed some solace, would pull out his compass and look at Peggy’s picture. He had long since stopping pining after her. Once she had passed on he reevaluated a lot of things in his life, and made some decisions. Looking at her picture now served to help anchor him to something. To help center him. Everything was so damn chaotic, and to still have one shred of anything from the past helped him see clearly. When he talked to her like this, it was less talking to her per-say, and more him working through something to get to an answer.

Seeing her again, however, when he went back to get the Tesseract, made him painfully nostalgic. Seeing his picture on her desk made him question everything. Made him wonder about “what could have been”. He had stolen extra Pym Particles in a moment of selfishness when he saw her again. He was overcome with emotion and heartache. She was just as beautiful as he remembered her being.

“You know I can’t go back to you. You have a husband, and kids. Beautiful kids. I can’t just take that away from you” Steve sighed. He thought some more. “Should of, would of, could of never won a war” his mother would say. Who knew that advice would come in handy.

“I moved on Peggy. Like you wanted me to. And I found something just as good, no, no- something even better. You met him. You knew him.” Steve said. He pondered for a moment, an ache came into his heart.

“You were my first love, Peggy, but, you are not the love of my life” Steve said, his voice breaking.

Bucky came up behind Steve. It was finally a moment of peace, a moment he felt he could finally talk to him. Bucky moved silently, still, that was a habit he could not break. He approached the couch and saw Steve looking at Peggy’s picture. Bucky stopped, his heart sank. All he saw was Steve looking at his compass, the way Bucky would catch him doing when he was alone, years and years ago. He hadn’t seen him do it in years, but he knew exactly what it meant. Bucky swallowed hard and turned around on his heels and walked away.

————————

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Bucky would say back to Steve with sadness in his voice. He had this inescapable feeling that Steve was going to go back to the past and just ... not come back.

“Okay. Seven seconds. That’s how long you’ll be gone for. You have everything?” Banner would ask. Steve patted himself down and picked up Mjölnir.

“I think I’m ready” Steve said with a nod. His helmet came down over his face. Banner hit some buttons and Steve was gone in the blink of an eye off of the travel pad. Bucky took in a breath and held it.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

_Eight_.

Eight seconds. Bucky breathed out hard, his eyes widened. Steve had really done it, hadn’t he? He gasped. He felt like he was choking.

“Where is he?!” Banner scrambled at the console and Sam came up next to Bucky.

“What’s he doing?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know” Bucky squeaked out, fighting back tears. Sam gave him a look. He could hear Bucky’s voice tremble. Bucky could barely hold it together. How was he supposed to go on without Steve? What would he do?

“It’s been a full minute!” Banner called out.

“Can you bring him back!?” Sam asked.

“No, it’s on him to return. I have no idea what happened to him.” Banner had panic in his voice. Sam looked to Bucky once more.

“Did he say anything to you before he left?” Sam asked in a whisper. Bucky shook his head. All he remembered was seeing Steve looking at that picture of Peggy and he connected the dots himself. He had this feeling that he would go back. This gnawing dread that he would stay.

More time passed and just stood there, staring at the travel pad, dumbfounded. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like the entire world had fallen away and it was just him and that stupid travel pad.

“One and a half minutes!” Banner called out. This was the longest 90 seconds of Bucky’s life.

“Two minutes!” Banner looked confused and concerned. No one understood. Tears poured out of Bucky’s eyes. He couldn’t hold it together anymore. He felt betrayed.

_You left me? How? How could you? How could you leave me? What am I going to do now?_

Suddenly, Steve was deposited back onto the travel pad, he came back in a blip and he was on his hands and knees gasping and he had a backpack on that he didn’t have before. Steve threw his head back and his helmet retracted, revealing his face that now had stubble. Much more than five o’clock shadow. His eyes met Bucky’s and he stood up, catching his breath. 

“What the HELL were you doing?” Banner demanded. He looked pissed. Steve looked at him and put a hand up.

“Don’t worry about it Banner. It wasn’t exactly easy to put everything back you know”. Steve managed to say. He turned his attention back to Bucky. 

“Bucky, why are you crying?” Steve put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. 

“I thought- I thought you left me....” Bucky choked out. He sniffled. His face was red from crying. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Buck, No. Not without you.” Steve reached up and wiped away Bucky’s tears and pushed his dark hair back behind his ears. Bucky looked into Steve's eyes. He was stunned. 

"Do you remember when I was so sick after my mother died, that December?" Bucky nodded. 

"Do you remember what you said to me that night? Because I did, finally, that Christmas you decided to drink an entire bottle of whiskey and damn near freeze to death. I finally remembered". Bucky just stared at Steve, wide eyed, he wasn't sure where this was going. Sam and Banner just stared at the two, mouths slaked open. 

"It took me all this time to realize that you loved me, and always have" Steve said, tears welling up in his eyes. 

"And it took me even longer still to realize that I love you, too, Bucky. I love you." Steve finally said it out loud to Bucky. It felt liberating, like a thousand pounds had been lifted from his chest. Fresh tears welled up in Bucky's eyes. Steve cupped Bucky's face. 

"Steve!" Bucky cried out. He pulled Steve in for a kiss, his hands on his head and neck, tears still streaming down his face. 

"I've loved you since, I don't even know how long" Bucky cried as the two switched to a hug. The best hug Bucky ever got, he reckoned. Bucky breathed in the faint lingering scent of Steve's cologne and thought he could die right there he was so happy. Steve pulled out of the hug and kissed Bucky once more. they laced their fingers together and all was right with the world, for once. Banner cleared his throat. 

"This uh, still doesn't explain why you were gone so long". 

Disgruntled, Steve faced Banner. 

"It was exceptionally difficult to place all the stones back. I had to fight two versions of myself. And I had a very long talk with The Ancient One. She wasn't exactly anyone I would seek out for knowledge, but she and I talked for a very long time. Longer than I guess I realized" Steve said as he rubbed his chin and felt the obvious growth. 

"I also had to procure a shield" Steve ended. 

"What for?" Sam asked. "Yours's is broken but cant they fix it?" 

"I'm not sure, it got really beat up. I got it- well I got it for you, Sam." Steve took the leather backpack off and pulled out a new, pristine shield and handed it to Sam. 

"What for?" He asked as he took it. 

"Sam, I'm retiring. I've been fighting since the day I was born, and I don't want to any more. The Ancient One helped me realize that. She helped me realize that I have more important things to do than fight" Steve looked at Bucky and smiled, and then looked back to Sam. 

"I am passing it on to you, Sam. I know no one else who's more worthy of it." Steve said with a sort of prideful smile. Sam's mouth dropped and he gasped, he didn't even begin to know what to say. He wiped his eyes. 

"It's an honor, Sir. It truly is" he slid his arm into the shield straps and brought it to his abdomen. It suited him. 

"No, it's my honor. You're a good soldier with a good heart, and to do right by Dr. Erskine who made me who I am today, you had better stay that way." Steve said. Sam continued to mess with the shield and Banner checked the computer. 

"Well, that's it then. They're all back." Banner said. Bucky looked to Steve. 

"What now, Mr. Retiree?" He asked with a smile. Steve took ahold of his hand. 

"Why don't you show me Wakanda? You said you had a farm out there? I think maybe we could start there. What do you say?" 

"Sounds like heaven." Bucky ran his metal hand across Steve's chin. 

_Anywhere would be heaven with you._


End file.
